Of Strangeness and Otherworld Travel
by AnonymousMoodswings
Summary: New story. Hermione is quite literally blasted into another world. Give it a try, if you don't like, you don't have to read it. *Chapter fifteen is posted and there will be a HIATUS as I am moving, and will be unable to post for a while.
1. Of Duels and Blasts

My new story is a Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover. I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings ( - That's a disclaimer there ) All chapters will be less than 1000 words. There may or may not be a sequel.

Chapter 1

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It was the percussion or maybe it was the recoil, Hermione wasn't absolutely sure what it was that had done it, because right now she could not get her brain to function properly.

Maybe she should go back and start at the beginning, as all stories should be told.

Well not the absolute beginning, but perhaps the beginning that has led to her current predicament...

Harry, Ronald and herself had been on the run, hunting Horcruxes whilst being hunted by Snatchers and Death Eaters. They had gone to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the Final Battle was imminent. They had destroyed all the horcruxes and had found that Harry was not dead and then, Voldemort and Harry began to duel.

Their spells connected and the power was building, Voldemort's followers had abandoned him, and still the power of their magicks combined. Hermione could not help but to stop and watch in awe and in terror. One would push more power and slowly start to dominate the battle and then the opponent would do the same. And then Harry forced the most power and both his and his opponent's curse rebound and killed Voldemort. Unfortunately, as she had begun earlier on, perhaps it was the percussion or the recoil or the excess magic exploding, that Hermione was thrown back from the force and knocked unconscious.


	2. Of Peoples and Falling

Second chapter has arrived. I consider this story to be very much AU or is it OOC? Anyway, it is a bit different than most. Just a warning, I will not be going too far in depth in character interactions, until the sequel... if I decide to do a sequel, that is.

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The year was 1030 of the Third Age, Elrohir and Elladan had celebrated their nine-hundredth begetting-day only a few months back. Elrond and Celebrian were strolling through the gardens, the twins were in the training fields with Glorfindel and Arwen was reading in the Library with Erestor.

Thranduil was speaking with his young son, Legolas and the other Captains of the guard

Lady Galadriel was gazing out into the trees as her husband, Celeborn browsed through an old tome.

Radagast was bounding around the Greenwood on his sleigh pulled by Rhosgobel rabbits.

Morinehtar and Rómestámo were travelling in the east.

Saruman was overseeing the construction of Isengard, the city of the Istari.

Gandalf was wandering the lands as he was oft to do, when all of the mentioned and many others went rigid. A rift tore the fabric of their world and an explosion of terribly powerful magic swept over all of Arda.

Perhaps it was chance and perhaps not, but Gandalf looked up to the sky and there a jagged hole grew and out dropped a small body. She fell the short distance to the ground. Gandalf cautiously drew forward and crouched next to her. She was slight and pale with dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her hair was a mass of riotous curls that were now dirty. She was dressed strangely and had spots of blood on her.

She was injured and Gandalf knew he would have to attend to her. She had strange clothing on, she wore breeches like a man would but these were made of a strange material and they were tight, they clung to her body. There was a small bag and a stick next to her and magic rolled off her in waves. She was a wizard or mayhaps a witch and he recognized the stick for what it was. Just as the five Istari had their staffs, she had hers.

He mumbled a chant over her and she twitched, her wounds healing before his eyes, well all save one which healed but left a rather nasty scar. It appeared to be words but he could not read the language. He looked about and decided that here was just as good a place to settle for the night and in the morn he would change his destination and take her to Saruman, the leader of the Istari.


	3. Of Wizards and Uncertainty

My computer crashed on me last week and so I didn't get to update, but now it is all fixed and thanks to a back-up all my work is safe, yay!

So I got a review from **Molluscophobia** (awesome screen name, btw) about how short the chapters were going to be and the story pairing and I glossed over how this is kind of the prequel, a longish one but a prequel none the less. For the pairing I said "And as to not stating the pairing I want it to be a surprise! I want people to tell me who they think Hermione will be with from the cliché but adorable Hermione and Legolas to the odd Hermione and Lindir and the down right disturbing Hermione and Radagast or anywhere in between and out of the box. I have an idea in mind and I think I will probably stick to it but I would still like to hear what all the readers say. :)"

Am I supposed to do a Disclaimer every chapter? If so, hey you all I don't own Lord of the Rings nor do I own Harry Potter, they belong to their respective authors, producers, directors, etc...

If not, then whatever... or you could just skip over the Author's Note all together.

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During the early morning, Hermione awoke groggily, one half of her cold and the other warm. She opened her eyes and stared at the blurry sky. There was an orange-ish light to her right and she looked over to see a fire burning lowly. Across the fire, she saw a larger form sitting up against a rock, resting. His eyes were closed, his pipe lit and he chewed lightly on the stem.

He was an old grey man with long grey hair and a long grey beard.

Hermione closed her eyes a moment, trying to clear them, and reopened them. She coughed lightly to get his attention. His eyes opened and though he appeared very old he had an intense blue gaze. He very much reminded her of Dumbledore but his eyes didn't have the same twinkle and plus his nose _was_ rather large.

"Who are you? Where am I?" she asked as politely as possible, though her voice croaked a bit. The old man said nothing just tilted his head to the left, raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips around his pipe stem.

He opened his mouth and spoke to her, he sounded polite but she did not understand a single word out of his mouth. It was a lyrical sounding language. He tried again in a different language, less lyrical but still quite a pleasant sound. He tried several more languages from the sound of it but was not successful and just earned many blank looks in return.

So now Hermione assumed it was her turn. Unfortunately, she did not know many languages and as far as she could tell none of these were languages that she had any knowledge of. It didn't sound Russian or Asian or like any of the Latin-based languages at all. She spoke to him in English, in French, then tried her very limited Scottish and Bulgarian.

He shook his head after each one and pondered over her languages, they were harsh sounding and each new one she spoke was harsher and more gravelly than the last. None of them at all like Sindarin, Westron, or Quenyan. He knew he was right, now, in deciding to take her to Saruman the White. While he doubted Saruman spoke any of her languages maybe he would be able to answer the riddle of her appearance. Gandalf realized that it was great and powerful magic that brought her here, but he doubted that it was any of the Istari, Maiar, or Valar, whom he believed, would be the only beings capable of bringing her here.

She frowned in confusion and looked at him again when he stood. He had a staff with some sort of stone or gem twisted into the top. Was he a Wizard as well? And if he was, was he a dark wizard, a light wizard or more like her as an in between wizard?

He walked over to her and she stiffened, suddenly unsure if she should be this calm around him. He didn't look it but he might very well kill her and she would be unable to do anything about it seeing as she had neither her magically expansive bag nor her wand. While she was sufficient in wandless magic, she was even stronger with her wand. He crouched down beside her and handed her some sort of bread and a hunk of dried meat along with what could only be described as a water skin.

_Well, this is good,_ she thought. _He wouldn't be sharing his food with me if he was going to kill me, would he? _


	4. Of Thank-yous and Beginnings

Okay really short chapter, I _know _I am such a tease. Unfortunately, please don't hate me! \0.0/ the next few chapters are going to be wearing short-shorts. I have put a poll up on my profile for you all to guess the pairing, so go there and click away.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just play with their lives. So hang onto your Thestrals and kiss your bums good-bye!

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After Hermione had hesitantly taken the food from him, he gave her a smile and then produced both her bag and her wand from inside his robes with a flourish. He handed over the bag that he hadn't been able to open no matter what and how much he tried and then hesitated but in the end; he returned her wand with a stern look and waggled his finger at her. "Don't you be using this now." he told her, trying his best to look stern but trustful all the same.

She gave him a beaming smile, showing off very straight, very white teeth. She took the wand and tucked it in the wand holster strapped to her arm beneath her shirt sleeve. She finished off the piece of bread and lump of meat he had given her and took a large swallow of water and then handed the skin back to him, nodding and saying thank-you.

He seemed to understand what she was trying to say and told her le hannon, repeated her word and then said _le hannon _again.

She said "_le hannon_," and he gave her a smile and a nod. After their moment of attempting to communicate and eating a small tough meal, the old wizard stood and began to pack up his impromptu little campsite. The fire was put out, scattered and covered with dirt and he packed the foodstuffs and bedroll onto his horse. He gestured to the young girl and then back to the rather large animal.


	5. Of Horses and Blue Fire

Another shorty but I'm posting a bit sooner since it_ is _soshort, hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: *sobbing uncontrollably* I don't own I swear! Please don't send the orcs after me!

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Hermione stared at him in disbelief. He wanted her to get on a horse? She had never been on a horse before. Sure, she'd ridden a thestral, a dragon and a hippogriff... and a broom. Of course, there was one thing that all four had in common that made her determined to like riding on this horse, even if it didn't have a saddle on. They all flew and...

She _hated_ flying.

She saw the old man smile at her determination and held an arm out after he had mounted up. She grasped his arm and had an awkward moment pulling her body up behind him but finally settled in and grabbed his robe tightly to hang on.

He set off at a slow enough pace but for the fact that the horse's trot bounced her about. She continuously positioned herself so it would be easier to stay seated. They travelled a long while, until what she thought was an hour before sundown before he slowed to a stop and and begun setting up camp. Without a word from her, Hermione wobbled off into the trees to gather fallen sticks and branches and carried them back; surprising him, then turned and made another trip. She entertained the idea of making one of her blue flames to keep warm and saw no harm in just holding it in her hand seeing as it didn't burn. It just emitted heat.

Gandalf had strode determinedly into the ever-darkening trees and returned with a happy smile, holding a plump dead rabbit by the ears. He saw she had her stick out and waved it, producing a small blue flame, right into her hands. He grew alarmed and rushed over. He snatched her hands away from it. She blinked innocently up at him, not understanding why he had done so. But as he examined her hands, he observed no burns and that the little flame still burned and flickered on the grass, not scorching it.

He released her and she scooped it back up and grabbed his hand and poured the little blue flame into his palm. He tensed as if waiting for the burn, but it did not come. He stared at it in uncertainty.


	6. Of Realizations and Isengard

I'm back... I've been unable to access my chapters lately but now I'm back so without further ado, here is chapter 6.

Disclaimer: *scuffs boot in the dirt* My name is not J.R.R. Tolkien nor is it J.K. Rowling

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They travelled at an easy pace for many days and though Hermione didn't really understand at first, Gandalf was teaching her to speak in the language he spoke most often, Sindarin. She was learning though and she deemed it only right that she speak the languages of this world because as stated as before, this was not her world. She had learned that only a few nights after arriving.

She had been staring up into the night sky one night after they had eaten; and she had replaced the cooking fire with a blue one, which did not need wood to burn and gave off a little more heat.

She had stared up at the dark sky and had not recognized a single star. The Dog Star was gone; the Hydra, Polaris, and Leo constellations were not present. She had hoped that maybe she had been force-apparated to some wild land in Russia or Africa but it was not so.

The two unlikely companions had also attempted to learn each other's names and while Hermione had success and was able to say his name, Gandalf, after a few tries. Unfortunately, this was not such for him and he had difficulty pronouncing hers. His best attempt was hermion which he said as her-mee-on. He stuck to calling her _hiril_, meaning lady, and promised himself to work on her name. It wasn't any harder than some of the elvish names, but for some reason he just could not grasp it.

_Perhaps it was the language the name came from?_ he thought to himself.

The day after she had first rode on the horse, whom she later came to know was named Thalon, she had slid off him and collapsed into a heap on the ground, after collecting firewood, her backside very sore and her legs feeling as if she had gotten hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx. Gandalf had chuckled lightly and handed her an herb for the pain and some sort of salve to rub into her thighs which she did after she had gone into the forest to relieve herself.

They had travelled for nearly two weeks, when one day Gandalf had exclaimed and smiled quite broadly, his blue eyes twinkling almost like Dumbledore's. He pointed and Hermione glanced around him to see a clearing that looked to be in the beginning stages of constructing a large building and it had smaller buildings dotting the landscape around it. It was beautiful.

Gandalf looked down at her and smiled, he said one word to her before telling Thalon to go forward.

"Isengard."


	7. Of Tests and A First Foe

**I'm posting this one just shortly after I've posted chapter 6 to make up for my lack of, well, posting. So Happy Birthday everyone! Or something...**

**Disclaimer... blah, I don't own the originals nor do I make profit from this story.**

Saruman the White stared at the two figures before him. One, a wizard in the form of a tall, old man and the second, a small wisp of a girl; or rather a young woman just reaching adulthood.

One that Gandalf was convinced was a witch.

The explanation of what happened and how he found the girl was quite strange and Saruman had no doubt that this girl had caused the disturbance that everyone in Arda and Valinor had felt. She had the same energy and had a great deal of strangeness about her.

Saruman however was skeptical about the witch business, however. Of course there was a great deal of power emanating from her but could not that surely be residual from her arrival?

She was a bold female for that and she knew limited Sindarin, for which Gandalf had surely been teaching her. Saruman wanted proof that she was a witch and said as much to the grey wizard.

Hermione caught the gist of the conversation and pulled her wand from its holster. She pondered on how to give the old white wizard proof, and yes she had finally caught on to the fact that they were wizards too. She decided and filled her hand with the blue flame. The one introduced as Saruman the White frowned.

"A dabbler in sorcery and flaunting small tricks, surely."

When Saruman shook his head, Hermione arched a brow and apparated. The loud crack made both men flinch and she was gone from view. She appeared behind both men and tapped Saruman's shoulder. He turned and before he could say anything to Gandalf she looked him straight in the eye and entered his mind through a swift legilimens. She was no skilled Legilimens and so it was rather forceful and sloppy. He stiffened as he felt her painful invasion in his head and then she started putting other things in there. She was showing him things, her riding on a dragon, her blowing up buildings, her and two young men performing spells and making potions. Her life in her world.

She withdrew from him and Saruman slumped a bit, grasping Gandalf's arm to stay upright. That had been a painful experience he never wanted to feel again. He confirmed with Gandalf.

"A witch, indeed, and I'll not have her here! You are a traveler, take her a wandering with you, find someplace for her because I will not have her here, I say!"

"Will you allow us rest for a day and replenish supplies and perhaps provide another horse?"

"I will, but you are to keep her away from me. Keep teaching her to speak or find her a place where she can learn."

Gandalf nodded and gestured for Hermione to follow him, and she did so without question when she saw his solemn face. He led her to a middle-aged woman and explained that the young woman was in need of a bath and a few sets of clothing and travelling supplies. The woman nodded and grabbed Hermione's arm. She let out a squeak of surprise but followed along nonetheless.


	8. Of Awkward Baths and Duron

**Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers for liking this story so far and for your awesome criticism. Hopefully you'll all keep it up! Thanks to: nagozualdean, saashi samy, Vexel, Gwenlynn, Lina Inverse, 4thyearRavenclaw, VERA VIV, Taboo22, lina, Rinnala, Leah, angel897, Guest, Tih, Anis29, Molluscophobia, Lalaith Elerrina**

**Some of you have expressed a wish for longer chapters and I must tell you now.**

**I pretty much have this story drafted out, I'm just working on the editing and tweaking and adding or removing a chapter here or there. All the chapters will remain pretty small, but I have decided to do a sequel and am hoping the chapters will be larger. So far it is looking good. Once again, thank you so much and her is...**

**Chapter 8**

Early the next morning, Hermione was stripped and shoved into a tub of warm water by an older lady, whom had the appearance of just eating a lemon. Her clothing that had been taken away from her the night before was returned. She scrubbed and another younger lady helped wash and braid her unruly hair. She felt kind of sorry for her, having to put up with the heavy, dirty mass. Once clean and dried off, she was shoved into some sort of thin, whitish dress and then forced into some sort of corset-type under-wrappings contraption and then another, heavier green dress was pushed over her head and tightly laced.

She was handed stockings and quickly pulled them on seeing the stern older lady come in with boots. They were soft-soled and made of thick cloth, there was a thin layer of fur inside and Hermione suspected that was to keep her legs warm when it got colder, seeing as when worn, they would come all the way up to her knees.

A leather bag was brought in and another set of under-wrappings, one more shift and two more dresses were folded and shoved in. A large bar of oddly scented... er, soap, another pair of boots, a leather pouch that held many herbs and her own freshly laundered clothes and beaded bag were placed in as well. She was handed a medium-sized weapon, of which she guessed was a dagger, and shown that it was to be placed inside one of her boots. She had never used this kind before, only ever having used the Sword of Gryffindor once and that had been a disaster in the making.

She was led out to a courtyard where she met a freshly cleaned Gandalf. He gave her a smile and placed her arm on his and led her to a stable. His bag and bedroll were on his once again saddle-less horse, how it stayed on as they were moving was a feat she had yet to figure out. He led her to dark brown horse, it too was without a saddle, her bag, and a bedroll had been provided, were atop him too. He was just as large as Thalon.

Gandalf patted his neck and said, "Duron."

Hermione stroked a hand down his neck after Gandalf walked away, and found that Duron was quite soft. A stable man came over and helped lift her up and she settled in place. Now that she thought of it, Hermione took her wand and gave it a wave at her belongings, silently placing a temporary sticking charm on the bag and horse. The horse flinched and tensed a moment and then relaxed. Gandalf shook his head and gave her a wry smile before he said to Thalon, "Forward, make haste!" and Thalon took off at a canter, Hermione had been instructed to say to Duron, "Hurry! Follow them." and she did so.

Hermione was glad they were going faster than a trot for it was easier for her to stay seated, and she grasped onto the lower part of Duron's mane and gripped her knees as tight as possible without hurting the horse to stay on. She supposed it was best to learn to ride a horse without a saddle, they could travel lighter, longer, and faster that way.


	9. Of Broken Speech, Horses, and New Names

Chapter 9

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They rode hard and long that first day and night and Hermione had no idea as to why. By the time they had finally stopped Hermione had only the energy to lead Duron to water and brush him down before she collapsed to the ground, in a deep sleep. Gandalf smiled lightly, glad to see that she cared for her horse's well being before her own and supposed that for tonight he could forgo the language lessons.

A week later they still traveled quickly and Hermione was learned enough to ask small simple questions, which she did ravenously. She did put forth a question about Duron one morning while learning to say ' have, you have, they have,'sentences and questions, when she asked in fractured Sindarin, "How back Duron to Isengard?"

Gandalf looked at her in surprise and replied, "He will not, he is yours now."

"Truly?"

"Yes, Rhawen. We will be wandering a long time, Thalon would not be able to carry the both of us for a long distance and eventually I plan to take you to Imladris, and you will need a way to get around, if you wish to leave."

Gandalf had taken to calling her Rhawen, something she was not happy with when she learnt it meant wild or untamable maiden.

"You have get my name now, why call you me Rhawen?"

"The name suits you, Hermione." Hermione made a face at him and he smiled. "We will be coming upon the realm of Lothlorien soon, be on your guard and hold your tongue when the Galadhrim find us."


	10. Of Unruly Magic and Eryn Lasgalen

**Chapter 10**

For the next three days of their journey the were escorted by the wardens of Lothlorien. They were not to travel through the Lord and Lady's realm unattended. Hermione didn't speak except when Gandalf was giving her lessons in speech which he did throughout the day as they walked and the horses followed behind. The inhumanly beautiful males with strikingly long blonde hair exchanged bemused looks and Gandalf just explained that she was foreign and didn't speak any of their languages.

They had wanted to know why such a young human girl was travelling with Mithrandir and he just smiled and said she was his ward of sorts. He found her and so he was taking responsibility for her. He never used her English name with them, and always called her Rhawen. He had come to use the name on a spark of inspiration. She was always so determined and she always had a fierceness in her eyes.

All three of the wardens had noticed right away the strangeness about her and so Hermione didn't dare use her magic while in their company.

Once they reached the borders on the other side of Lothlorien, they mounted their horses and took off at a fast walk. Gandalf was very relieved when she decided to not use her magic and kept her wand hidden. She had found that magic was easier to come by, or more readily accessible in this world and so her wand magic was much more powerful and unfortunately for her; accidental magic was more readily available too. She would have to keep control of her emotions from now on. She got annoyed with Gandalf only two times and a nearby boulder had exploded into pebble-sized stones that rained down on them for several minutes. The second time his robes had caught fire, which he hastily put out. They had both dreaded to think of what would happen should she become truly angry and so he helped her focus on control and the amount of magic she used wandlessly and silently.

They wandered aimlessly for many weeks stopping in each human town or village they came upon for a week or two, where Hermione would make Painless Potions and sell them for coin and so she built up a small supply of gold and silver. In addition Gandalf sold his fireworks and she sold what was left of her supply of Weasley products. Yes, she had finally opened her beaded bag and had shown Gandalf what was inside. She had brewed the Painless Potion when she had tripped, sprained her ankle and cut her leg. Gandalf had decided that it would be fine for her to sell them so long as she left explicit instructions. As she was only learning Sindarin and steadily becoming more fluent she had Gandalf translate in Westron for her that they only needed one, just one drop of the elixir in a hot drink for it to work and Hermione made sure they knew the precautions of using too much.

As her Sindarin was getting stronger, Gandalf slowed on the lessons and focused more on teaching her how to use her dull and rather shoddy dagger. After that, each night she would read a different book from her beaded bag before sleeping. Gandalf had once asked if he could see what all she carried in her small bag and took one entire day emptying it and repacking, while Gandalf sat in astonishment. When he asked how, she had just shrugged and said, "Magic."

Every time they met someone he would always introduce her as Rhawen and then say she was his ward of sorts and be done with it. She hadn't any idea why he'd taken her 'under his wing' as it were. No one could get any other word out of him, or her for that matter, about the subject. Word spread from town to village and word even came to many of the Elvish Realms that Mithrandir had a companion. Many from the race of Men speculated that she was his young bride and others that she was an apprentice but only those of the Eldar race would come to know the truth of her, for they could sense the strangeness and they would be able to feel her magic.

By this time they had been rambling about in the wilds for nearly seven months and they had finally reached Eryn Lasgalen.


	11. The Interlude of an Elven King

**Chapter 11**

They entered the forests of Greenwood the Great cautiously and within a few days journey, they knew they were being watched. Gandalf informed her that it would be a long journey through this wood and to be on her guard at all times.

The Guard watching them was the sentinels of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm and they watched closely, studying all about the young woman with Gandalf. Messengers were sent back to Thranduil and he returned that they were to continue watching them. He wanted to know their destination. Were they traveling to him or just crossing through? What was their purpose in his realm? Who was the female?

Word was sent to him nearly two weeks later of them and it stated that the girl, whom Mithrandir called Rhawen, had been curious about the lights in the wood.

Thranduil knew of course, these were where his people partook in their merry-making, and glared at the missive. The message further stated that she caught a glimpse of the fete and had only nodded. She turned back to go the way she came only to run face-first into a tree that had not been there previously. The trees were playing with her and she had gotten lost before she ended up hanging upside down in a deer trap.

Mithrandir had found her, taken one look and fell over laughing as she scowled at him. This had been much amusement for his sentinels and for his son as he allowed Legolas to read the message.

In truth, it appeared as if the two were making their way to Rhosgobel, perhaps to speak with Radagast the Brown and the sentinels stated they would keep out of sight but would travel with them if they were in need of any help.

Three weeks after they entered the large forest, Hermione and Gandalf arrived at the borders of Rhosgobel in the southwest of the Greenwood.

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Legolas quietly observed the strange glint in his father's eyes as he read the missive from Carastor. He knew his father had his faults. Men often thought of the elves as perfect creatures of all things good yet this was most untrue. They had their dark histories and some carried a darkness within them.

His father just happened to crave and collect unique and powerful things, even if those things happened to be people. He even had an elk rather than a horse because of a taunt. As a true wood-elf and woodland King, he should have a woodland creature as a mount.

That Arda had just gained an other-worlder, an unknown being, had only stimulated his interest. That the said being was accompanied with Mithrandir and was _female _only served to seize the attraction further.

Whispers among the Woodsmen and Dunedain had carried into the Elven realms and were that she was a sorceress who sold wares that cured sickness with a single drop of liquid. There were also rumors of her being a hideous monstrous creature that secreted children away in the night; but that she traveled with Mithrandir he wrote off as mere untruth and fanciful notions from fearful Men.

"Do you believe that she is truly Mithrandir's bride?"

"No, Father. I have much difficulty believing the Maiar would take any bride much less one so young. Surely there would have been announcements or even word from the Valar."

"We do not know that she is so young. There are tales that she is an old hag and some that she is of equal beauty to an elleth."

Thranduil stroked his desk with one finger and stared at the parchment with a calculating gaze.

"Father, do not."

"What is it I am not to do?"

"Cease your plots to lure this female to you."

"Would I truly do that, my son?" a coy smile curled on his lips.

"Yes." Legolas replied bluntly and without hesitation.

"They are in my realm. They do not have permission."

"Mithrandir's plans have been overheard. He is escorting her to the Brown Wizard and then is making his way here."

"One might think he is trying to keep her from me."

"Father."

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The bit about the taunt was an allusion to An Elk? by Lamiel. It's a one-shot but very amusing you all should go check it out.

Thank you **saashi samy** for the idea of the second part of this chapter, hope you like it. Let me know.


	12. Of Brown Wizards and Curious Kings

**Chapter 12**

Throughout their journey, Gandalf had told stories of his wanderings since he first arrived in Arda and he had told her of the five Istari or wizards, too. She was quite excited to meet this Radagast and from the stories she had heard, she imagined him to be a mix of Hagrid and Trelawney. Though, every time she had that thought she would make a face of disgust that amused the old grey wizard to no end.

One day, in the beginning of their journey together, he had asked her what her age was and she had thought for a moment and then replied she had been nearing her nineteenth year when she was brought to this world. Now that he was thinking about it he believed she was near to one year in Arda. They would stay in Rhosgobel for a few weeks to rest and replenish supplies and then he decided they would make their way to Imladris, which would take a few months at an easy pace.

They met with Radagast and both he and Hermione were immediately taken with each other. Radagast found her strange but cunning, and likeable. She loved the animals in his forest, too! And so, Gandalf being the sneaky fellow he was told Hermione that he was going to leave her there, that he had to be somewhere and he would be back in a few weeks.

Hermione spent every day playing with the animals and learning from Radagast. Each Istar was different and practiced their craft in a different way. She was warned though, that all of the Istari would know right away what she was and that most of the Eldar would be able to guess within a few weeks of meeting her, if they really thought about it, that is.

While Hermione visited with Radagast, Gandalf rode Thalon into the Greenwood and sat patiently until a sentinel came for him. He explained to the ellon that he wished to commission a gift for his young ward and asked to be escorted to King Thranduil's finest blade crafter. Three days later he had been escorted to Thranduil's dwelling and met with the king in his hall.

"What is your business in my realm?"

"I would like to commission a gift."

"I find myself most curious Mithrandir, would this perhaps, be for the young lady you travel with?"

"Yes."

"She is your wife, perhaps?" Thranduil peered at him, slyly.

"Goodness no, my ward, I have taken her into my care. She's quite alone here."

"I see, and what do you wish to have commissioned for her?"

"I have trained her some with the dagger Saruman gifted her and she is a quick study but she is in need of better blades. I am hoping to have a set of two made for her."

Thranduil stared at him through narrowed eyes. "She will need to come here for them to be balanced. Have you learned much about where she comes from?"

"Yes, I suppose she will. I was most curious and I confess I may have exhausted her patience with many questions about her world."

Thranduil watched Mithrandir and drummed his fingers. "Very well, I wish to meet her. I will send Calithilon to retrieve her from Radagast the Brown."

Gandalf made to object but was silenced by the look upon Thranduil's face.


	13. Her First Elf

Chapter 13

I have been doing some editing, removing and adding; mostly from chapter seven onward, so if you haven't you should go check that out.

To **Gwenlynn (Guest)** Thank you for pointing that out. I have no idea why I added that and after I went through and reread some of my chapters I decided I did not like that either and I have done some editing. I feel like I like it much better now and I hope you do too. As for the travel times... well they are in no hurry and they are traveling at a very easy pace and even going out of their way to visit the villages of Men.

I don't own LOTR or HP and I don't own the song or lyrics in this chapter.

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**_It's been so lonely without you here…_**

**_Like a bird without a song._**

Hermione was tending to Duron and the Rhosgobel rabbits one morning, about three weeks after Gandalf left, and she was singing to herself in English. She normally wasn't one to sing but the song had caught her fancy a few years back and she wanted some sort of sound other than the noises of the forest. She was so absorbed in brushing the rabbits and humming that she did not see the tall, blonde elvish male standing beside her.

**_Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling…_**

**_Tell me baby where did I go wrong?_**

**_I can put my arms around every boy I see_**

**_But they'd only remind me of you._**

Calithilon watched her solemnly. She was pretty enough for one from the race of Men, but she paled in comparison to an elleth. She was on the taller side for a woman too. Her hair was, to him, the color of tree bark, a mix of several shades of brown and blonde. Her hair was pulled back into two plaits and some hair was escaping the binds. She sang quietly and it was a pretty sound but it was definitely not elvish. The language was harsh and gritty sounding but mixed with her high voice it sounded… nice.

**_Nothing compares…_**

**_Nothing compares to you_**

_"Miss Rhawen-"_ he had begun in Westron but was cut off when she jumped and shrieked, loudly. Calithilon clutched his ears, grimacing in pain.

"Ooh... I am sorry. You startled me." She replied shakily, in Sindarin.

"Forgive me, Rhawen. I am Calithilon." he sighed, it was only to be expected, she was after all mortal and her senses were quite dull compared to his. Though he was surprised that she spoke Sindarin, she spoke it well.

"Ah, Gandalf has been talking of me, I see."

"How do you know this?"

"He tells everyone we meet that my name is Rhawen."

"Is it not?"

"Mm no, the name my mother gave me was Hermione, but Gandalf always calls me Rhawen. I have not the slightest idea as to why."

"Har- Hahrma- Rhawen, I have been sent to retrieve you to King Thranduil's Halls." he quickly gave up trying to say her name so as not to embarrass himself.

"Will I be returning to Rhosgobel?"

"At the behest of Mithrandir, he advises you to bring all your belongings."

Hermione nodded, and said "Duron, follow." The horse sauntered along behind her and Calithilon walked beside her. After a while of walking they came upon Radagast's ramshackle hut and found him sitting on the stoop, smoking a pipe. He silently waved his hand to where they found Hermione's pack and bedroll.

Hermione and Radagast stared at each other for a long while and then Radagast stated, "You will come back. Your house will be waiting for you when you do. Tinny also wishes to stay with you. Good-bye."

Hermione beamed and threw her arms around the eccentric old man. She let out a whistle and a large hunting hawk landed on her leather encased forearm. She petted Tinny's wings and said to Radagast, "It is never good-bye; it is 'til I see you again."

Calithilon helped her to mount Duron and placed her pack and bedroll behind her. Hermione silently placed the temporary sticking charm as she always did, Duron not even fazed by her magic anymore. They set of at a trot and gradually turned to a gallop. They stopped for the night some hours later, having covered much distance.

Unfortunately, Hermione was unable to stop staring. Calithilon was nothing like the house-elves from her world, he was more like the stories of the Faeries. She really couldn't help herself, this _was_ her first elf after all.

* * *

The song belongs to Sinead O'Connor and is titled Nothing Compares To You.


	14. Of Gifts and Sparring

Chapter 14

I am in the process of moving to a different house so this is and chapter 15 are going to be the last updates for a while, so sorry. Hope you all enjoy!

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Mithrandir stood in the Hall with King Thranduil and his young son, Legolas, a week later. Calithilon sent word ahead that he and Hermione would be arriving today. **_[It has in fact been approx. one month and three days since Gandalf and Hermione have last seen each other.]_**

Calithilon escorted Hermione into the large chamber, then bowed to his King and Prince and left the room.

"Well met, Rhawen." And true to form, Hermione made a face of irritation and scowled at Gandalf, which brought Thranduil to a stop in his rather dramatic greetings. "Is there an issue, Rhawen?"

"I apologize, King Thranduil. Gandalf seems to find amusement in telling all that my name is Rhawen, when in fact my name is Hermione." She confessed while glaring at Gandalf whom smiled far too innocently at her.

Thranduil and Legolas exchanged a look. "Would it soothe your ire that your elvish name be bestowed upon you by one of the Eldar race?"

"I suppose it would 'soothe my ire', but truth be told I prefer to be known by the name given to me by my parents. I understand my name is sometimes difficult or odd to say, but I suppose I thank you all the same."

Thranduil gave her a small smile. "It is my understanding that you are the cause of the disturbance we felt this year past and that is how you have come to be in Arda. Mithrandir has a gift for you and in truth I too have a gift to give, as well. Mithrandir had these made for you, and I must say I am anxious to see them in use."

Gandalf walked forward and presented her with a rich blue cloth-covered bundle. He laid it on the great table and flipped it open. Hermione sucked in a breath, her eyes wide in astonishment. There on the cloth lie two slim, brilliantly silver knives. Each blade was eighteen inches in length and encased in beautifully crafted, soft leather sheaths. The curved handles of each dagger were intricately carved with a silver leaf and vine designs set in black leather grips. They could be described as short swords, if one wanted to get technical.

"Breathe, Hermione." Gandalf said softly and she flung herself at him in a tight hug. This was the most amazing gift anyone had ever given her. She did not see the startled look on the wizard's face or the raised eyebrows of the two elves. She turned back to the daggers and was so caught up in admiring them, that she did not see a white-blonde male enter, dressed in fighting gear, sporting his own swords.

"Would you not do Megilagor the honor of seeing his creations in use?" Thranduil breathed in her ear. She was too absorbed in the beauty of the knives to jump, she merely nodded dumbly. Her hands shook as she picked one up. She held it in her hand and unsheathed it, the knife was inscribed. It was light-weight yet heavy at the same time. They would need to be balanced.

"I am just learning how to fight with this sort of weapon. I doubt I will be any match for him." she breathed.

"It is well, Rhawen. I need only to see how you tend to move and hold them, so that I may balance them." Megilagor assured her.

"How do you want me to move?"

"Begin with what Mithrandir has been teaching you. There is no need to for a fast pace."

She hesitantly stood near him and thrust with her right hand. It was loosely curled around the grip. Megilagor easily blocked, and studied her form and movements. He lashed out with his left left blade and she shakily blocked it with her left. Mithrandir had begun her training with a single blade technique but he could easily see she was more suited for two-bladed styles.

She started off well, even for a beginner but she was a quick study and easily picked up some of his forms and movements, but in the end still no match for him and she leaned heavily against the Maiar after he ended their spar. He had all he needed to perfect her weapons.

Given time, Rhawen could become a master with them.


	15. Of More Gifts and Determination

Chapter 15

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After the impromptu spar in Thranduil's throne room, Hermione was led to a room where she would be able to bathe. Some of the muggles in this world found it odd that she liked to keep clean and bathe as often as possible, even resigning herself to bathing in cold rivers. She could keep herself clean with magic but she was muggleborn and there was nothing she liked as much as relaxing in a soothing hot bath. And really there was only so much magic could do to keep oneself clean.

After Hermione finished and had donned her cleanest shift, a darker-haired elleth entered the room with several long dresses draped across her arms.

"These are a gift from King Thranduil. He requests that you join him for the meal this evening and that you are to wear the green dress."

The dress was beautifully crafted and would bring out her honey brown eyes. It was long and of elvish style and would likely drag on the floor a bit. It would cling to the upper half of her torso and though it was decent and wouldn't show any cleavage, the sleeves would leave her shoulders and some of her upper arms bare. She swallowed thickly, smiled and thanked the elleth, who left her to dress, promising to return to fix her hair.

Hermione panicked a bit. She didn't have this problem with the dresses made by the women of this world because they covered up her scar. It wasn't a _terribly_ ugly scar, but she usually always covered it because it was obvious and she didn't want people to stare, she didn't want muggles asking questions she couldn't answer. If she didn't wear the dress she would offend her host, whom was a king, but if she wore it then he would notice and worst of all, Gandalf would notice.

No, be brave. Just wear the dress and if questions are asked then she will deal with it when it happens. She put the dress on and marveled at the soft feel of it. Oh, but it was beautiful. The elleth returned with a ceramic jar, a comb, and some sort of soft-bristled bush. There was a cream in the jar that was lathered into her hair and the comb and brush slid easily through her hair. Her untamable mass of hair now hung to her middle back with large, glossy and heavy curls. If the elleth had seen her scar she made no comment.

When her hair had been finished and pulled back, she stood and squared her shoulders. She was determined to get through this night as pleasantly as possible. A knock sounded at the door and Hermione went to the door and pulled it open.


	16. Of Questions and Dinner With Elves

Yay! Nearly all moved into the new house and the internet has finally been set up again and so to celebrate this, here is the next chapter. I am very seriously thanking all my reviewers. You guys made me smile while I was anxiously awaiting the chance to upload, so thank you all so much! Also thank you to all the people who added this story to their favorites and followed this story, I hope you all will continue to like it.

Chapter 16

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Legolas stood before the door to their guest's quarters, waiting and silently attempting to say her name. The door opened to reveal Hermione. Her hair was still wildly curly, though now it had a smooth and soft quality. The dress, a gift from his father, suited her. Then he noticed a long soft pink scar on her shoulder that continued on beneath her dress. He stared for only a moment before shifting his gaze back to her guarded eyes.

He bowed and then held a hand out to her. "Hermione, I will escort you to the Hall this evening."

She smiled at him, and he tucked her hand into his arm, walking slowly but steadily. "Thank you for calling me Hermione."

"Do you truly not like the name Rhawen?"

"Oh, it's a lovely name, I suppose. I do not understand why Gandalf insists on people using it."

"It suits you. There is something wild... untamable about you, and 'tis not your hair." he said quickly, seeing her pull a hand up to her hair with a fiercely disgruntled expression. "Your name is not from this world, perhaps Mithrandir gave you an elvish name to not make your strangeness so obviously known."

She pondered his words as they entered the Hall, the tables full of foods. Legolas led her up to the head table. He pulled the chair to the left of his father out and let her sit.

"Rhawen, you are lovely this evening. This style suits you." Thranduil said, though his gaze lingered upon her shoulder a moment before looking into her eyes. He had a strange glint in his eyes, almost as if he felt triumphant.

Hermione gave him a small smile and thanked him. "Your gift is most beautiful, I thank you very much."

The night progressed with food and drink, of which Hermione only sipped at for it was very potent, and with Thranduil asking endless questions. Questions about herself, her family, what muggles were, did the magical population have a king, and what was a ministry. She answered as best as she could with each and made sure to stay away from technology and other such things as she wasn't very learned in those subjects after living in the magical community for so long.

The night was uncomfortable for her but thankfully other than a few curious stares, no one had even uttered a word about her scars.


End file.
